Right and left, tech corporations beg you to say your piece for the sake of content-generation, free publicity, hype, and ad sales. America’s speech is so free, it pays—just not you. Even when we don’t opine, just clicking around, we’re like cilia on the tracheal lining of some gross beast, and our small work of enthusiasm, liking or passing along or reiterating or linking, is like the wriggle of a hair, pushing the story down the throat of the culture, filling its lungs so that it may breathe. We can accept this. We are a hair.
The point is that there are microworlds of controversy everywhere—as regionally specific and pervasive as gossip, but bizarrely impersonal—and they torment everyone, and we’re all unhappy, drinking too much iced coffee, hating the haters, meta-hating.
Speaking of meta-hating:
And around we go.